Hurt
by celestialscribe
Summary: Remus is hurt badly after a full moon and Sirius blames himself.


Sirius entered the Hospital Wing, immediately turning to close the heavy doors behind him so as to keep from looking at that pale figure just a moment longer. For when he did, a wave of guilt which he had thus far staved off would inevitably come crashing down upon him. When he did, he'd have to face up to just what damage he'd done to the boy. Remus had been hurt badly this time. But it wasn't only the full moon Sirius blamed. It wasn't only the full moon that Sirius loathed for ever bringing this upon Remus in the first place. He blamed himself, and _loathed_ himself, almost certain that he could have prevented this had he only swallowed his pride and simply _been_ there.

Only Sirius _hadn't_ been there. The final words he'd cast at the werewolf before the full moon were those not so kindly directing him to the door, made only more hurtful by a much anticipated confession that he was better off without him. They'd slipped from Sirius' lips all too easily amidst the bitter rage that had temporarily consumed him. Yet he'd never once thought them in the past, let alone _believed_ them. Sirius knew all too well that it was Remus who was better off without _him._ By contrast, Sirius needed Remus more than he could bear to admit. And part of that need was needing the werewolf to need him _back_. Remus put up such a good front of stubborn self-dependence that Sirius never would have thought his absence could have had such an effect on the boy, let alone his _words_. Only that wasn't entirely true. He knew words could hurt Remus, just as they possessed the power to plant that stupid, reluctant smile on his lips, the one Sirius stood no hope of resisting because it was so inextricably Remus. He knew his absence would hurt Remus, but he hadn't thought for even a second that it could prove quite so _destructive_.

As Sirius turned around to finally face the sight that he had been dreading throughout that entire day, the invisibility cloak slipped from about his shoulders and fell to the ground with little more than a whisper. The curtains around Remus' bed were usually drawn during the day so as to keep him from the notice of his fellow students. However by the time night fell upon the castle they were always pulled back, depending on whether he was the only student confined to the Hospital Wing after hours which usually he was. Sirius often questioned whether this was for him; after all, night-time visits such as these were almost a routine. It should have brought him comfort that _that_ at least hadn't changed, but on this particular occasion Sirius was far too caught up in a burning sense of guilt to even recognise it. That Remus might want to see him, especially after the last few words Sirius had said to him, was a hope he didn't dare think about. The werewolf had every reason to _not_ want to see him.

Sirius could only just make out Remus' frail form against the darkness, illuminated solely by the light from the waning moon. It slivered through the arched windows and across the room, mercilessly seeking out the boy as if one night's misery had not been enough. From where he stood, Sirius already recognised new cuts trailing paths along the boy's flesh, scars which would only taunt Remus each and every day from then on. Then there were those Sirius _couldn't_ make out, concealed by thick bandages only just visible from beneath the cover of his blankets. Normally Sirius wouldn't hesitate. On any other occasion he'd be at Remus' side within seconds, climbing into bed beside him in pursuit of the warmth he offered against the cold of the castle. Yet as if his legs had turned to stone, Sirius found himself unable to move, unable to bring himself closer to the other boy. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel a creeping feeling of doubt which threatened to envelop him ever more with each passing second.

It was stupid. Sirius couldn't even remember why he was angry in the first place. Something about socks on the floor which Sirius refused to pick up, or the many hours Remus spent in the library when he was sure to pass regardless, slowly building up until it erupted altogether. Of course what it had really been about was something else entirely. Sirius was scared. He hadn't the slightest idea what _this_ was even supposed to be. It was fucking confusing. But apparently not to Remus. He was a master at keeping it a secret, keeping his cool, when all Sirius did was fuck everything up. Sirius wanted Remus to need him, as if that was recompense alone for the sheer amount that Sirius depended on him. Well it seemed he'd gotten his wish. After the last full moon, it was painfully obvious how much power he had over the boy. Sirius should have known better. He should have known better than to wind Remus up on that particular night. Then, as if to add further insult to injury, he'd been stupid enough, _selfish_ enough even, to let Remus endure it with only James and Pete for company. But it wasn't enough. _They_ weren't enough. At least not anymore. Sirius realised now that Remus _did_ need him, something he should have realised long ago _before_ he'd allowed Remus to rip himself to shreds.

Sirius blamed himself. James and Pete had called him up on it already, but neither of the pair knew exactly _what_ Sirius had done nor how his relationship with Remus had become so vastly different of late. They didn't know just how much Sirius _cared_. He'd always cared before, but this was different. Being close to Remus was dangerous, but not because of the lycanthropy which ran through his veins. He was vulnerable, and _Remus_ was vulnerable, ever since Sirius first came clean about how much he_ bloody_ cared. He_ knew_ Remus, and he knew what harm the wolf did him if he was even slightly pissed off or upset about something. And yet he'd drilled those words into his head regardless. He could still envisage the utter hurt of Remus' expression as he cast one glance towards Sirius before disappearing through the door of their dormitory entirely, slamming it behind him in the vain hope that this was enough to knock some sense into the raven-haired boy.

Remus never slammed doors. Remus never invited confrontation, but on that particular night he'd gotten it anyway. For the past seventeen years, Sirius had had to fight his way through life. The marauders usually brushed off his less savoury behaviour as nothing more than Sirius' usual self. Except Remus. It hurt him. He expected more from Sirius, but then such was only fair now that he'd shown Remus a side of himself that he didn't even know he had, a part of him wanting nothing more than what everyone deserved; someone who thought you mattered regardless of what a complete disappointment you were or how much you'd fucked up.

Sirius could never ask that of Remus, now especially. Remus had forgiven him before. He'd forgiven him after that stupid prank that almost got Snivellus killed and Remus expelled had Dumbledore not been his unusually understanding self. He'd forgiven him within a mere week or two when Sirius had thought he'd lost him forever. But Sirius had never quite forgiven _himself_. The sting of what he'd done never faded completely. He was reminded of it each full moon when a sense of helplessness flared up within him, a sense of helplessness which had never once defeated him until now. Sirius had only disappointed Remus further, when he'd promised to protect him, not solely in words but in a way that was strangely unique to him and the werewolf; through an intimacy that occurred of its own accord without you even knowing it, or touch, the uncontrollable desire to feel the lips of the other winning out against sense whenever they found themselves alone in the corridors en route to the library. Stolen moments that made all the crap that life threw at them worth it. Except this. It wasn't worth _this_. Not in the slightest.

Releasing a shaky breath, Sirius stepped further into the room so as to close the chasm of space between himself and the werewolf. Now that he had finally laid eyes on Remus, paler than usual so that he looked little more than a ghost in the moonlight, Sirius had completely forgotten about the cloak, abandoning it where it lay upon the cold, stone floor. He had eyes for nothing but Remus, yet it hurt to look at him. It hurt to take in the damage that he held himself responsible for. Nearing the edge of his bed, Sirius abandoned routine, edging the nearest chair a little closer so that he could sit instead by Remus' side. He had been careful not to break the silence that clung to the air, something he had perfected over the years through various pranks and mischief, yet Remus woke regardless, stirring from where he lay as he forced his eyes open. He must have expected him or been waiting, perhaps even trying to stay awake on his account, despite how much he must have needed the sleep. The thought would have brought a smile to Sirius' lips had circumstances not been what they were.

"Sirius?" he mumbled into the darkness, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes without giving away just how much pain the simple movement caused him.

Sirius didn't answer immediately. He was too busy taking in the haggard appearance of his friend, energy spent until little remained but a sickly expression of one beyond any magic's help. That was what Sirius loathed about lycanthropy more than anything, its permanence. From what James and Peter had relayed to him upon reaching the common room in the early hours of the morning, Sirius gathered that Remus had come all too close to losing every last shred of strength he possessed. Sometimes the transformation back to his usual self healed him of his most severe wounds. But sometimes that wasn't enough. And the fact that James and Peter hadn't been the subject of attack was all too telling. Only Remus had been hurt. Only his flesh had been torn by the great claws that he bore upon the night of the full moon. It wasn't the wolf that was mad. The wolf attacked indiscriminately, yet shied away from pain. It was _Remus_.

And yet there was nothing hostile about the wizard who lay before him. It was almost as if he was the same old Moony, the one he hadn't told to fuck off. It was almost as if these words were forgotten entirely despite the fact that they'd momentarily wrenched Remus' heart from his chest. There was no denying _that_; Sirius had seen it. He'd _felt_ it. Yet only a hint of sadness remained in Remus' expression that Sirius suspected had little to do with the full moon. It was enough to remind him of why he was here. He was here to see Moony, _his_ Moony, but nothing more. Not now that he knew exactly what he was capable of. Sirius didn't know quite what that entailed, but he knew that he couldn't do it again. He couldn't _hurt_ Remus again. He _wouldn't_.

"Moony," Sirius began, leaning forward in his chair and instinctively clasping one of Remus' hands in both of his own and bringing it to his lips. Remus remained where he was, indication enough that the full moon had been exactly as James had said even without the further testimony of his wounds. Planting a light kiss on the palm of Remus' hand, it must have been evident from his features alone that he was ridden with guilt. For a fleeting moment the werewolf's expression almost hardened, until he let his fingers trail the line of Sirius' jaw as if in reassurance.

"You weren't there last night," he stated simply. It wasn't a question, though had Sirius turned up Remus would have hardly been in a state to recognise him. Sirius supposed he'd been filled in by James and Peter, otherwise he'd woken on the cold floorboards of the Shrieking Shack to find two friends present instead of three. The turmoil was evident on Remus' expression; he had tried to conceal it, but disappointment still rung in his voice as if Sirius absence confirmed what he had only feared, that those last few words which had passed between them held more truth than he could sustain. Regret washed over Sirius; he edged forward in the chair, yearning to reach out to Remus in a way he couldn't with words, only he stopped himself short.

"Moony, I-"

"Don't," Remus interrupted before Sirius could get another word in. Shaking his head, Remus took a deep breath, shifting slightly as if considering sitting up before thinking better of it. "I'm glad. I mean.. Can you imagine if you _were_ there?"

As he spoke, Remus' free hand instinctively moved to rest on his chest. The bandage that had been wrapped around it was thick. It always startled Sirius when magic failed to heal Remus' wounds; it was a cold reminder of how sinister his affliction actually was. But now more than ever he felt a burning desire to take the werewolf into his arms as if that was enough to protect him from the pull of the moon.

"I expect it'd be _you_ lying here, and Merlin knows what state you'd be in."

_It was an admission.__ So he_is_angry_, Sirius thought, and he was glad of it. Remus had every right to be angry after what he'd said. To anyone it would have been hurtful, but to Remus, it was downright rotten. Remus might not admit it; he might deny that Sirius had incensed a certain enmity in him, but the wolf wasn't _half_ as reserved as the boy.

"I wanted to see you," Sirius said finally, his voice unnaturally feeble in his moment of weakness. "James and Pete, after they told me what happened.. that you.." His eyes flickered to the bandage about Remus' chest before he reached out and placed a hand over it, light enough that the pressure wouldn't cause him pain, whilst the warmth in his silver eyes was tender enough that it might even _soothe_ some of it.

"But we're not meant to know what you are. Prongs pointed out that Madam Pomfrey would ask questions.. being an animagus and all.." As he spoke, Sirius shook his head, his disregard for such matters blatant in the disgruntled expression he bore. It all seemed daft in light of everything else. Sirius had never paid much attention to school rules, let alone the law from which in all honesty he considered himself rather detached. From the moment he'd heard the full moon had gone awry, Sirius wanted nothing more than to charge into the Hospital Wing as he should have charged into the Shrieking Shack, no matter what the cost. Rather his skin put at risk than Moony's. Merlin knows the boy had been dealt enough blows already. It would be a small price to pay to simply be with him. But reason prevailed. He'd followed his fellow Marauders' instructions and waited, bitterly watching the clock as one hour crawled into the next until a shroud of darkness had befallen the castle and Sirius could slip into the Hospital Wing unnoticed.

Remus surveyed him for a moment. The way his eyes darted from the bandage to the hand that held his, then resting on the covers, they never lingering on Remus' for too long. The storm that gently brewed in their depths was just as dangerous as ever, but there was a warmth and a tenderness there that few ever saw but Remus himself. Perhaps James or Peter saw a flicker of it midway through a particularly masterful prank but that was but a shadow of what _Remus_ saw. Sirius' words had hurt; they'd hurt more than anything the moon had brought upon him. The wolf within him could only do so much harm and Remus was more than accustomed to that particular kind of pain. When it came to the transformations, he was a survivor. But loving Sirius? That was a whole other kind of curse. And yet just like lycanthropy, it was entirely irrevocable.

"Sirius," Remus began, slowly waking up enough to at least _pretend_ he had the strength for this. "Is there a reason why you're in a chair for once? Are you going to get in here already or am I-... Right." Remus cut himself off, seemingly coming to a decision.

Sirius was as stubborn as the werewolf. When he_really_ fucked up, not easily did he allow others to forgive him. His self-loathing, normally just a sigh of doubt that rarely made its way to the surface, flared up until it overpowered any shame he might have about admitting his guilt. Sirius made alot of mistakes. But when Remus was involved he wasn't half as likely to let it drop. He could be bloody annoying about it too, according to his fellow Marauders. Now seemed to be one of those occasions. At Remus' words, Sirius showed little response, truthfully taken aback that the werewolf seemed to have forgiven his wrongs so willingly. But the next thing he knew, Remus pulled back the covers and was clambering out of bed, most likely using what little strength he had.

"Remus," Sirius said in warning, his voice curt.

Remus ignored him. He'd been with Sirius long enough, either as friend or something more, it made little difference, to know that sometimes he needed a good kick up the arse. But in his inability to do just that Remus had to resign to gentler tactics.

"Budge up, will you?" he said, yet he barely gave Sirius a chance to comply with his demands before slipping onto the chair on top of him, straddling him so that this time he was _forced_ to meet his gaze. Unlike Sirius, Remus didn't hesitate, not allowing for a moment's doubt to sweep over him. But his heart was beating furiously in his chest and the hand he'd placed at the nape of Sirius' neck played with the tresses of his hair as if searching for a distraction. The sudden movement had clearly cost him; Remus winced slightly, at which point Sirius' flinched, as if Remus' pain was _his_ pain.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Sirius asked, already regretting his words. _Of course it bloody well hurts_. His hands slid around Remus' waist, trailing the line of bandages that were wrapped tightly around it until they rested on his back almost protectively. It killed him to see Remus bear the marks of the full moon, marks which pained him both immediately and every day thereafter when he had to look upon them, but that wasn't the only thing he was referring to. From the anguished guilt that was etched in Sirius' features, he may as well have said _I hurt you_. It was apparent that Remus knew this all too well, for he contemplated the answer before providing it.

"Does it make a difference either way?" _You're here for a reason, after all._Remus didn't even have to ask whether there had been truth to what Sirius had said the last time he'd seen him. Of course it had occurred to him. He'd thought them himself countless times which was the reason why they had struck so _deeply_when realised by the other boy. He knew for a fact that Sirius was better off without him. He was a _werewolf,_for Merlin's sake. He _knew_ they were true, but he also knew that Sirius hadn't _meant_for there to be any truth behind them_._Sirius' words had hurt, but Remus felt it was the sort of penance he was due for ever burdening Sirius with his condition in the first place. There wasn't even a _sliver_ of doubt in the fact that Sirius was better off without him. If Remus could have stopped loving him, he would have. But as it was, Sirius was his biggest weakness.

Sirius moved his head aside so as to avoid looking at the werewolf so intently, to avoid meeting those hazel eyes that bore a warmth for him even now after everything he'd said and everything those words had brought upon him.

"I shouldn't have said it, I shouldn't have pissed you off, and.. fucking hell, Moony. I should have been there." Sirius' voice was little more than a whisper, but it was strained, as if Sirius was under threat of breaking down completely.

"No," Remus said again, his features contorting at the pain of simply envisaging how that previous night could have gone. "Sirius, it would have happened anyway. It's not as if I remember much of that night, but this _isn't your fault_." Remus rested his hands on each side of Sirius' face, bringing it to meet his as if it was those eyes and those eyes alone, however sorry and self-pitying they might be at this precise moment, that steadied the very grounds he walked on.

"I'll never hurt you again," Sirius said, fighting against the pull of Remus' lips, his own gravitating ever closer as he obediently met the werewolf's gaze. But he had to say this first. He had to make it right. "Remus, I swear it."

Only Sirius couldn't swear anything. That simply wasn't the way this worked. Remus could never supply such a promise for he would forever bear his condition and everything it entailed. And as such Sirius' good intention alone was more than enough. Remus captured Sirius' lips with his own, and in doing so forced forgiveness upon him before Sirius could feel a further moment's regret and self-loathing. For that's what it all derived from; Sirius' feeling of inadequacy that was so craftily concealed through pure-blooded charm and a haughty smirk. Only Remus _knew_ Sirius. He knew it was little more than a façade. Remus may _look_ broken, but it was Sirius who bore the fissures of a broken life. Tender palms still resting on Sirius' cheeks, Remus showed no sign of releasing him from the kiss, letting his lips mould against Sirius' until he felt the other's hands against his back. Their touch was painfully affectionate, more assured than a few seconds before as they pulled Remus closer against him. Sirius held him there as if he had very nearly lost the only thing that mattered; one of the few people Sirius _couldn't_stand losing. With that simple kiss alone, fingertips of one of Remus' hands now trailing a path down Sirius' neck whilst the other lost itself amidst black, tousled hair, Sirius attempted to dispel seventeen years of hurt.


End file.
